I'll Only Drink a Little
by i-swear-we-were-sufinite
Summary: Why had Tino let Berwald drink so much? Human AU and one-shot.


"'I'll only drink a little', he said," Tino sighed, pushing the tall body that was falling out of the barstool away from him. He landed on the counter, short blond hair falling into his face. Confused, he pushed himself up slowly and reached his arms out, fumbling with his shaking hands. "What has he gotten himself into?"

"Where's it?" he slurred, seeking the amber liquid he drained not long ago. Tino grabbed his wrist, attracting his attention.

"You've had enough, Berwald." His friend kept looking from the table to Tino's eyes, back and forth until he settled on the empty glass. With a yank, he separated himself from Tino and fell onto the counter again.

"Maybe . . . how many?" Berwald's usual mumble was harder to understand. He spoke in broken, quiet sentences, and the ends of his phrases tended to fade into indecipherable muttering. "What are we doing . . ."

Tino tensed. He hadn't dealt with many drunks before, especially not Berwald. He was never drunk—in fact, he was usually the ride back to the apartment they shared with their other two friends. Mathias and Lukas, their roommates, were nowhere to be found. The club was dimly lit, filled with sweating, drunk college dancers, and the generic music consumed all other noise—another factor that made Berwald impossible to understand. Tino listened to the best of his ability, but it didn't give him much to say to Berwald.

"We went out to celebrate Lukas's brothers' high school graduation," Tino shouted. "Although, I really don't know where Lukas is. Or his brother. Did he even come, I don't remember . . ." Tino has had his fair share of alcohol as well, but he usually had a good tolerance. He attributed it to his Finnish heritage, but it was usually Berwald who was listening to drunk-talk. "Are you okay? I think you had too many drinks—"

"'M fine, just fine, who're you?" And now he forgot his name. Tino let out a tiny squeal of panic. Berwald would never forget him—oh God, how much had he let him drink? What if he lost his memory because he drank so much, and forgot who Tino was? _Deep breaths, _he told himself. _He's just a little drunk, that's all. _

"Tino Vainamoinen, your roommate? Remember—" Berwald nodded, now looking into Tino's eyes. His own grew; with slow, lazy movement, he brushed his hand against Tino's cheek. He held it there for about a minute, stroking it back and fourth with a tiny smile on his face. Tino stared at him, unblinking, very tense. What was Berwald _doing_?

"Cute." Tino's stomach flipped as Berwald removed his hand. He continued to watch him, an odd fascination in his blue eyes.

"Um, Ber? I really think that you've had too much, and . . . and . . ." Tino was interrupted by large arms enclosing him, shoving his face in Berwald's chest. Breathing became difficult. Berwald nearly fell off his stool as he dropped his head on Tino's shoulder. "A little space here, do you want me to drive you home—"

"I love Tino," Berwald murmured dreamily. "So cute. Can't control . . . Tino's my friend. Can't do this, but . . ." he couldn't hear the rest of the sentence. Berwald still did not notice Tino's tight, tense posture or the shocked expression that was frozen on his face. He couldn't deal with any of this. Surely, his friend wasn't serious? He couldn't be—he was probably just the type of drunk who clung to the first person he saw. _Deep breaths, Tino, _he urged again, only to find Berwald's grip on him tighten. _He's definitely the clingy type—_

"Don't tell Tino," he whispered into his ear. "Oh wait . . . you're Tino. If you're Tino, then . . ." His cheeks flushed bright red as he realized the obvious. He averted his gaze downwards, but his arms were still wrapped tightly around Tino's waist.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" Tino asked, refusing to talk about Berwald's nonsensical confessions. He could feel Berwald's heart pounding, and he quickly realized that his own was beating the same. Berwald grunted in response to the question and fidgeted with his position.

"Want to kiss you." Before Tino could react, he leaned his face close to his, lips hovering dangerously, smelling of alcohol. Immediately, Tino squealed and shoved him away, and Berwald's lips kissed his palm.

"Please, don't!" he protested, his heart racing even faster. Berwald's head drooped and he turned away, shoulders slumping. A new wave of fear washed over Tino—even if Berwald was drunk, he was still hurt, because of him. "At least, kiss me when you'll remember it." His face had never burned more than it did then. Berwald wouldn't remember this, but it didn't change the fact that Tino would remember what he said, and know that he did it unconsciously. Shyly, he watched as Berwald's face lit up; an expression Tino had never seen crossed it. His eyes were wide and his mouth was dropped open. Tino laughed awkwardly as he struggled out of his grip. Instead, he steadied his friend and began to walk slowly, through the crowd and out the door. He couldn't spend any more time here. Luckily, Berwald seemed to get the hint and cooperated, though he continued to find ways to cling to Tino's small form.

" . . . Promise?" he asked, his voice child-like. Tino giggled, nerves finally getting the best of him. Like this, Berwald was actually kind of cute. He was never going to live this down.

"Promise." He highly doubted Berwald would remember, being as intoxicated as he was. But a small part of him thought that if he did, perhaps he wouldn't mind fulfilling a promise like this. "You're never touching alcohol again."

* * *

**A/N: **I have been in this fandom for over a year and a half. I have never seen anyone write drunk!Sweden. Basically, this was my head canon for how he'd act.

I have had massive writers' block on my other stories. I've written some of _The Outcasts, the Heroes_, but I'm stuck. It will probably be my next update.


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